Page 47 of The Favourite

“Is it possible Bertrand might be hungry?” Jane ventured nervously.

“Oh, ‘im! He’s got a full belly, don’t you worry,” Anne said with a gurgle of laughter. She cradled Celestia to her ample bosom and then smiled at Jane. “She’s latched right on.”

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Thank goodness.”

Seeing her expression, Anne’s own turned curious. “You couldn’t feed her, then? I thought—well, it was on account of you being a fine lady.”

“No, I could not feed her,” Jane confirmed awkwardly. “Are you certain that you will be happy to leave the village behind you? Only my husband is anxious to return to Aphrany.”

Anne nodded enthusiastically. “It’s like I told Master Watkin, I got nothing keeping me here nowadays. My Mum will be glad too of the room, for my brother’s lately married and, as some might say, three women under one tiny roof is two too many.” Anne laughed heartily at her own joke, and Jane forced a polite smile in return. “Why don’t you sit down, milady?” Anne asked comfortably. “My Bertrand is a heavy weight and you’re looking wearied already.”

Jane sank down onto the bench beside her. “I am not usually such a poor creature,” she said apologetically. “But we made the five-hour journey from Aphrany only two days ago and now my husband tells me he means to drag us all the way back there. I feel exhausted just thinking about it.”

Anne tutted in sympathy. “And you so lately with child, too!” she murmured reproachfully. “It’s no wonder you’re a tired thing.” Her shining eyes told a different tale, however. She clearly could not wait to see the Winter capital.

“Have you been to Aphrany before, Anne?” Jane asked, keen to change the subject.

“Never!” the other replied. “I’m that excited milady! I could hug meself! Is it really everything they say?” When Jane hesitated, she elaborated, “The palace, the cathedral, the city walls?” Jane nodded solemnly. “Fancy!” breathed Anne. “Me and Bertrand won’t know where to put ourselves!”

After Celestia was fed, Jane led her upstairs and showed her where to put the baby down. Bertrand was more vocal by this point and Jane was glad to hand him back to his mother. “If you would not mind, er, packing up the baby things as best you can, Anne, I would be very grateful. I will send word when I know what hour we depart. Did Wat bring your own things with you?”

“He did, milady,” Anne assured her. “Not that we has much.”

On returning to the ground floor, Jane found Alisander gazing out of the window, having cast aside his book. “Ah here you are,” he said. “How dare you leave me so long. I have been unutterably bored. Come and sit down here beside me.”

She could hardly avoid so direct a request, so Jane sat down on the window seat beside him. “Were you indeed serious about our returning so soon to Aphrany?” she asked, turning toward him.

“Of course, I am serious. Never more so. Only consider, Jane, what the hells would we do with ourselves otherwise?”

“Familiarize ourselves with the estate,” she answered promptly.

He blanched. “I am as familiar with it as I wish to be.” He shuddered faintly. “Moreover, wife, you do not fool me. The prospect of staying here another week does not fill your heart with joy any more than it does my own.”

Jane cleared her throat. “It is not a matter of joy, but of duty.” He snorted. “Very well,” she conceded, “I will own that I prefer life at court—”

“You see.”

“But we have obligations here.”

Alisander rolled his eyes. “Ah yes, obligations,” he murmured. “Perhaps my own diplomatic duties have momentarily slipped your mind, wife?”

Jane gave a guilty start, for she had somehow forgotten his official capacity at court. “I— you are right,” she admitted stiffly. “I beg your pardon.”

He made that airy gesture that he was so fond of, the dismissive wave of his hand. “Pray do not give another thought.”

Jane’s heart sank as she realized she ought to suggest he returned to court without her. The thought of being left here alone with Helen’s household filled her with dread and misery. She opened her mouth to speak the words of dutiful obligation, but her tongue refused to speak them.

She remembered the Queen’s cruel words: You will live in seclusion with no company to speak of … No one will see you. You will have no society, no intelligent conversation. You will be all alone, with naught but a mewling babe for company.

She would molder here in this perfectly pleasant country house. The child would offer nothing by way of companionship for at least two or three years, she was sure. She would be horribly alone.

“I wish you would tell me what is running through that tortuous mind of yours,” Alisander commented mildly. “You look terrified.”

“Should you wish to return to court without me?” Jane asked hollowly and then stared down at her hands, too afraid to meet his eyes when he answered.

“No,” he replied after the shortest of pauses. “So sorry to shatter your hopes for quiet tranquility, Jane, but I am deriving far too much entertainment from your society to part with you, just yet.”

Jane was so relieved she slumped in her seat. “Are your mistresses usually such a source of diversion?” she asked without thinking. He made a choking sound and Jane fought down her rising blush.